The Only Way Out is the Door You Came In

Understanding the Common Perspective

There's an expression you've likely heard before: "The only way out is through." While commonly invoked as a motivational mantra, it often leaves people grappling with hardships they find themselves unwillingly thrust into.

We are hardwired to resist uncomfortable or unpleasant situations, and this mindset—that the only escape is by trudging through—propels us to resist even more. The result? An experience that is both laborious and seemingly endless, like walking through mud.

The Illusion of Striving

Implicit in the idea of "getting through" something is the notion that there's a destination, a "better place" than the one you find yourself in.

There are two issues with this orientation to problems.

First, adopting this orientation often creates an endless cycle of striving, wherein satisfaction always seems just out of reach. This constant striving keeps us in discomfort longer than necessary.

The universe we live in is one where whatever we resist persists.

Secondly, we assume that what we experience in the present shouldn't happen. Suddenly, we are victims, and victims never have any real power in the circumstances.

The process of "getting through" creates a "stuckness." We are now powerless in a circumstance that should not be happening, striving for a better future that is always out of reach.

A Radical Redirection: The Door You Came In

Let's consider an alternative perspective: "The only way out is the door you came in."

This isn't just a poetic twist but a profound shift in how we approach suffering. If you are experiencing anxiety, grief, or any form of struggle, consider that "the way out" involves simply confronting and accepting the pain.

A mentor once told me, "In life, pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional." I've always remembered this.

The Buddhist idea of "the two arrows" helps here.

Imagine you're playing outside, and you accidentally prick your finger with a sharp thorn. Ouch! That's the first arrow, the physical pain you feel.

But then, imagine if you start getting upset thinking about how much your finger hurts, how stupid you were to touch the thorn, how you should've known better, or how you won't be able to play baseball later in the day. That's like being poked by a second arrow, the suffering we feel when we dwell on the pain.

Buddhist teaching talks about being mindful and not letting that second arrow hurt us even more.

It's about understanding that feeling pain is natural, and we can learn not to add extra suffering to ourselves by being upset about it. Instead, we can acknowledge the pain, let it be, and focus on feeling better.

The way out here is the door we came in - we acknowledge the pain. We feel the pain of the thorn in our bodies. We don't allow ourselves to go beyond the physical pain into other thoughts.

We can, paradoxically, only go back out through the door of the pain.

Just like when we take care of our finger after getting pricked, we can care for our minds by not letting the second arrow cause more pain than necessary.

Something transformative happens when you embrace the idea of sitting with your pain. When faced directly, the struggle starts losing its grip.

Accepting discomfort doesn't mean wallowing; it means allowing yourself to experience it fully, minus the resistance.

Practicing mindfulness is practicing not being there for the second arrow.

The Paradox of Acceptance

Acceptance doesn't mean endorsement. You don't need to like your circumstances to accept them, nor does accepting them mean you want them. You are simply acknowledging them, intentionally allowing them to be what they are, without judgment.

Victor Frankl, an Austrian neurologist and psychiatrist, is best known for his book "Man's Search for Meaning," in which he shares his experiences as a prisoner in Nazi concentration camps during World War II. Frankl's story is a powerful example of accepting and finding meaning in extreme circumstances.

Despite enduring unimaginable suffering and loss, Frankl found a way to accept his circumstances and even find meaning amid his trauma.

Frankl's acceptance of his circumstances allowed him to maintain a sense of inner freedom and resilience, even in the face of immense adversity.

By accepting his circumstances and choosing to find meaning in his suffering, Frankl was able to transcend the horrors of the concentration camp and sustain a sense of purpose that ultimately guided him to survive and thrive in the aftermath of the war.

Victor Frankl's story is a profound testament to the transformative power of acceptance and finding meaning, even in the most challenging and distressing circumstances.

So What?

Years ago, I was presented with the axiom, "When we accept what's so, it becomes so what?" In other words, the distressing aspect begins to fade once you acknowledge and accept what's troubling you.

This is fundamentally what mindfulness is about—the ability to stay present with uncomfortable feelings without the compulsion to evade or overcome them.

Mindfulness teaches us that resisting pain only prolongs it. We paradoxically find relief by stopping our efforts to escape and turning our attention back to the discomfort. The suffering dissipates not because it was "fixed" but because it was faced.

Where Mindfulness Comes into Play

Mindfulness is not just a buzzword but a critical skill in navigating life's challenges.

When we train ourselves to be present with our feelings, we dismantle their power over us. This doesn't mean the feelings vanish; it means they no longer control us.

We find ourselves having feelings rather than feelings having us.

Through mindfulness practice, we learn that emotions and thoughts are transient. They come and go like waves.

The challenge is learning to ride these waves rather than being submerged by them. When we stop resisting, we allow these emotions to flow naturally, and in doing so, we understand their impermanent nature.

Practical Steps: How to Sit with Discomfort

1. Acknowledge the Feeling: Recognize when you're experiencing discomfort and name it. Say to yourself, "I am feeling anxious" or "I am feeling sad."

I heard Dan Harris say a more advanced version of this. He suggests saying, "There is anxiety here," or There is sadness."

2. Breathe: Use your breath as an anchor. Take deep, mindful breaths and focus on the sensation of breathing to ground yourself.

3. Observe: Notice what you're feeling without judgment. Are there physical sensations that accompany your emotional state? Where in your body do you feel tension?

Sometimes, it helps to notice where you feel the pain in your body. Ask yourself. "Does it have a color?" "Does it have a shape?" Does it have a temperature?"

4. Allow: Allow yourself to feel uncomfortable. Understand that it's okay to have these feelings—they're a natural part of being human.

When we give up resisting, judging our circumstances as the wrong ones, we are only then able to look to see if there is anything we can learn, any meaning we can gain.

Allowance creates a clearing in which we see our circumstances as not personal, and this presents an opportunity for growth not otherwise available.

5. Return to the Present: Frequently, our discomfort is tied to ruminations about the past or anxieties about the future. Refocusing on the present moment helps alleviate this cyclical thinking.

We have gone back out the door from which we came and are free to choose where to go and how to feel.

The Power of Going Back

The notion that "the only way out is the door you came in" is a powerful reorientation.

It's an invitation to stop, turn around, and face what's causing you pain.

Doing so transforms your relationship with discomfort, making it less about getting somewhere else and more about accepting where you are.

You can move forward peacefully and with greater resilience only by returning to the present.

Learning to sit with discomfort may seem counterintuitive in a world that glorifies progress and movement. Yet, in this stillness, we find a doorway to relief and a deeper understanding of ourselves.